Tell Me Why
by Horch
Summary: <html><head></head>Dahlia Hawthorne's experience in jail. Contains spoilers for 2-2, 3-4 and 3-5. Rated T for death and some mild violence.</html>
1. Father

**I'm sorry if Dahlia or/and Gant seem OOC in this. I wanted to show that Gant still cared, even if just a teeny-tiny bit, about his daughter Dahlia. Reviews are completely welcome. Constructive criticisms, too. Just no flaming, please.**

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><p>Dahlia Hawthorne heard some footsteps. Probably a new prisoner. Most likely a new prisoner. Obviously a new prisoner.<p>

Out of curiosity, she took a little peek at the face of the prisoner, who was passing by. He was old, about sixty-five, with white hair and a white beard. He was wearing an orange suit, and had piercing emerald green eyes, which were magnified by his glasses. But the most startling thing was… he was laughing and clapping like a madman.

That face was very familiar to Dahlia. She could not quite place it, but she knew that face. But Dahlia knew not the expression.

"Who's that?" Dahlia asked herself. The guard looked at her.

"Dahlia Hawthorne, this is Damon Gant," the guard answered. "He was the former chief of police, but he was accused and convicted of murdering two people by Phoenix Wright." _Phoenix Wright._ Now that was a name familiar to Dahlia. Gant stared straight at Dahlia, boring his eyes into her soul.

"I see." Dahlia said, seething silently. After _she_ was convicted, she never wanted to hear the words "Phoenix Wright" ever again. Ha! Feenie. What a weak soul living in the shell of a pathetic man. If only he had been convicted…! Dahlia thought menacingly.

"Here's your cell," the guard said. He opened the door to Dahlia's cell and let Gant in before slamming the rusty door shut. Dahlia retreated to the back corner of the cell.

The guard left. He had better things to do than watch the prisoners. Dahlia could still hear Gant laughing and clapping his hands, which also came to an abrupt stop. Ha! That idiot Gant probably already realized he's a goner, thought Dahlia.

"Dahlia Hawthorne, huh." Gant said calmly, unlike the maniac he had been earlier. "I remember that name."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "Of course, you've probably heard of my case. After all, you _were_ the chief of police." Dahlia hissed, emphasizing the word "were". She did not want to hide herself anymore, as that pretty, young, red-haired woman wearing a beautiful dress with butterflies fluttering around her. Butterflies. She'd always hated butterflies.

"No, not in that aspect." Gant replied. "I mean in an intimate aspect."

Intimate? Does that mean…? No, it couldn't be. This man wasn't the person she thought he was. No. "Intimate aspect, huh?" Dahlia could not help asking. "What the hell are you talking about, madman? Elaborate."

"Madman, you say?" Gant asked. Dahlia imagined him raising his eyebrow. "I'm not sure you'd like to call your own father a madman."

Dahlia knew it. She was right, after all. This is the man she had stolen the diamond from. This is the man who she convinced to abandon Iris at Hazakura temple. This is the man who left her mother. Not that Dahlia cared, of course. "How do you know?" Dahlia asked.

"I think I'd notice my daughter anywhere, with that mane of red hair on your head, those cunning eyes. Yes, I knew, from the very moment I laid eyes on you in this prison, that my fellow prisoner would be my daughter. You are just like me." Gant replied.

Dahlia came closer to Gant. "Why did you abandon Mother?" Dahlia asked curiously. She did not care, though—she has long since stopped caring about affairs that were not her own, especially not her mother's or Iris's.

"I had realized that she was of no worth to me anymore." Gant replied matter-of-factly. "Her sister Misty overshadowed Morgan with her superb powers and became Master in her stead. Your mother was not of use to me, ever, unless she became Master."

"I see" was all she could reply.

"You see, my daughter," Gant said, already getting used to the term. "We criminals belong together. We do vile deeds for a reason. Tell me, Dahlia, are you on death row as well? I know for a fact that I am." Gant said, laughing maniacally.

"Yes, I am on death row." Dahlia replied. "And there is nothing humorous about it."

And they continued on and on, talking, about their past crimes. Each asked a string of whys, and the other told the story. Until Dahlia asked Gant, "Why did you let me convince you to abandon Iris?" Dahlia was curious. She didn't care a bit about her sister, but she wanted to _know._

This one, Gant did not answer. Not immediately, anyway. "There are only three people I care about." Gant said, quoting his earlier words to Phoenix Wright, "Me, myself, and I. Iris was a bother, and a total waste of money."

Dahlia asked another question, "Why didn't you abandon me then?"

This one, Gant answered… with his silence.


	2. Another Prisoner

**Continued, due to the requests of some reviewers. Yes, deviltwin10141 and dearfranny-my only reviewers-this chapter's for you! Now, other people, will you PLEASE review?**

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><p>Dahlia heard two sets of footsteps. One set sounded like the officer's. The other sounded familiar… like wooden sandals.<p>

Dahlia glanced at her father, who was sitting down on one of the bunks. "I'll be back." Dahlia said to him softly. Gant nodded. The two people—the officer and the prisoner—came into view. Dahlia strode swiftly to the front of the cell, and spoke to the passing officer. "Hello again, officer," Dahlia purred. "Who's it this time?"

The officer stopped, and so did the prisoner. The prisoner had raven black hair, which was pinned up by a flower. Strangely, it was also _shaped_ like a flower. The prisoner also wore an odd, black dress, which was decorated with white characters. She calmly sipped from her mug. "This is Morgan Fey." The officer said.

Another familiar name. _Morgan Fey._ For a moment, Dahlia's innocent-looking-but-actually-demonic eyes met Morgan's. Now this was a woman who knew how to control her anger. Though it was well-hidden at the moment, Dahlia could sense the rage emanating from Morgan.

"I see." Dahlia said, and she crept back to Gant without making any sound. The officer and Morgan resumed heading to the cell.

"So who might that be?" Gant asked Dahlia. Dahlia brushed back a clump of red hair hanging around her face. "You have nothing to hide, Dahlia. Tell me everything. There are no secrets between us after all… right?" Gant questioned her. His green eyes pierced her dark ones.

And Dahlia decided she can not tell him. Not even the name. But, Dahlia realized, she _can_ tell him, she just doesn't want to.

"Just another normal prisoner." Dahlia hissed at her father. Gant glared at Dahlia, trying to get more out of her. But when he realized he wasn't getting anything other than the silent treatment, he gave up, though it was very unlike him to.

"I see." Gant replied. He stared at Dahlia, trying to use his peculiar staring power that got even the toughest people to spill the beans and weep at his knees. But Dahlia held tight. Maybe she didn't have something to hide. Maybe the prisoner was just a normal one.

"Are you done staring at me now?" Dahlia snapped. "I hope you are, because I'm going to sleep now." Dahlia said flatly. She climbed to her bunk, her hard, cold, relentless bunk. She'd been sleeping on it for the past three or so years, and she'd gotten used to it. It wasn't luxurious, but it wasn't so horrible either. There was a pillow, at least, even though it was stone-hard.

Dahlia instantly drifted to dreamland. Her dreams were mostly replays of the various crimes she committed and the trials she'd withstood. The most recurring dream of all was being convicted by _Mia Fey._ The second most recurring dream was the suicide of her boyfriend, Terry Fawles. Tonight, it was the trial wherein she'd been convicted by Mia Fey.

They weren't nightmares, as most would call it. Dahlia had grown used to it, so they were just normal dreams to her.

She woke up, and saw Gant still staring at her. "I know."

"You know what?"

"I know what you were hiding from me. I thought we agreed not to keep secrets from each other, Dahlia Hawthorne." Gant said coolly. He looked at his daughter coldly, his lips curled into a smile and his arms tucked behind his back. "Promises are not meant to be broken, especially if they were made between father and daughter."

"So how'd you know?" Dahlia asked persistently.

"I did the same thing you did." Gant replied. "I asked the guard."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "Duh, of course you did." Dahlia said, and climbed down from her bunk. She sat down on the floor.

"You didn't tell me a lot of things, Dahlia. You weren't completely honest with me, either, all the time we were here." Gant said, out of the blue. Dahlia pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Gant stared at her, and began to sit down on the floor, as well. But the second his bottom touched the cold floor, he stood up and sat on the Monobloc chair instead.

"What, you don't want your noble butt to get dirtied by the floor?" Dahlia insulted, smirking.

"That, and the fact that I am getting old. I'm sixty five." Gant said. Then, he said, out of the blue, "You haven't told me a lot of things, Dahlia. And you haven't been so honest with me, either." His eyes pierced her like they had dozens of times.

"Look, old man," Dahlia hissed. "I don't think you have been completely honest with me either."

"Then I shall ask you a question. And you must answer with complete honesty, my daughter," Gant declared. His piercing eyes bored into her even more, if that was actually possible. "Why did you steal my expensive diamond?"

Dahlia immediately quoted her father's words: "There are only three people I care about: Me, myself and I."


	3. He Is Dead

"So why did you not abandon me?" Dahlia asked her father for the umpteenth time.

Gant took off his glasses, polished them with his shirt and put them back on. He glared at his daughter. "I thought I told you that you were enough for me. And my other question you did not answer directly: why did you steal my diamond?"

"Ugh." Dahlia said, rolling her eyes. "Let's just leave it." She walked to the front of the cell, and picked up the two plates the guard left them. Their dinners were boiled chicken, mashed beets and tough, grainy rice. A rare dinner. Dahlia detested beets, and dumped her beets on her father's plate. She wolfed down the rest in silence.

Once Dahlia cleaned off her plate, she said to her father, "Good night. Because I'm not going to spend the rest of my life asking about stupid diamonds that were already stolen. I'm going to get some sleep, if you do not mind."

Dahlia climbed to her bunk, tired, even though it was only eight o' clock. She quickly drifted off.

"_Oh, come on now, everyone._ _Surely, you aren't fooled, are you? This stupid woman! She's nothing but a filthy, stinking liar! Right, Mr. Prosecutor…?" Dahlia asked the prosecutor, a dark-haired old idiot sitting in the prosecutor's bench named Winston Payne._

"_Huh…? Y-Yes… Th-That's exactly right. It's just pure desperation!" exclaimed Payne._

"_Objection! Hmm… I wonder which one of us is the desperate one? So, Ms. Hawthorne. This cold medicine… I wonder if you wouldn't mind taking some?" Dahlia gasped. "Well, Mr. Wright ate that necklace of yours, right? Now it's your turn to prove your innocence. What do you say? If I'm just a filthy, stinking liar, then there's no need to worry. So come on! Show us! I dare you to take some of this medicine right now!"_

"…_Grr… Nngghh… Hnnn…" Dahlia growled. "MIA FEY…! MIA… FEYYYY! Do. You. Think. You've. Won? Well! Do you, Mia Fey?"_

_Now it was Mia's turn to be taken aback. So Dahlia continued. "Heh… Heh… Heh… Heheh… That's. Just. Fine! For the time being…" Dahlia paused dramatically. "For the time being, victory is yours."  
><em>

"'_For the time being'?"_

"_Well… I have a very long memory, you know. You and I will meet again, I'm certain of it."_

Dahlia woke up, drenched in her sweat. Though her dreams/nightmares don't affect her that much anymore, she couldn't help but wake up soaked to the bone in sweat. She sighed, wiping away a bead of sweat rolling down the side of her face. But she didn't get up. She looked at the clock positioned outside her cell.

It was six thirty in the morning. Dahlia pushed back her red hair and tried to fall asleep once again. But she couldn't.

So she lay there, thinking. Strangely, her thoughts drifted to her mother, who was in the prison cell next door. Morgan Fey. The woman who was supposed to be master. But she was too weak, and the whole Kurain village knew that. Ha! Dahlia despised weak people, especially her sister, Iris.

Iris. That horrible traitor of a sister! A coward, as well. Dahlia recalled the incident in Dusky Bridge.

_Terry was right beside me. Dahlia held on to her backpack. Just then, she saw her sister pull up in her car. She climbed out and went to meet them. Dahlia studied her. Valerie looked the same as always. Short hair, somber expression on her face. She was wearing her police uniform. Dahlia looked around, searching for her other sister. But she wasn't there. Iris? Where was Iris!_

"_Diamond?" Terry said, holding out his hand. Valerie nodded curtly and handed him a tiny bundle. The diamond. The two million dollar diamond. Terry nodded, and put it away in his pocket. That stupid oaf of a prisoner. Dahlia stopped him._

"_No, Terry," Dahlia said sweetly. "We have to see if it's genuine. Give me the diamond." Terry nodded and handed the bundle to Dahlia, who examined it. But when Terry looked up, he saw a startling scene. Valerie Hawthorne pointing her gun at him._

"_Give me back my sister." Valerie hissed. "Now." Terry flinched, and tried to push Dahlia forward. But Valerie pulled the trigger, and the bullet went into Terry's arm. It wasn't fatal, but it still hurt. Dahlia took advantage of the confusion and jumped off the bridge. With the diamond._

Iris. She wasn't there, because she was too _weak._ Weak. That was Iris. Weak. Easily persuaded. Weak enough to fall for the charms of Phoenix Wright, that stupid excuse for a lover. That idiot, who kept flaunting the necklace, the symbol of their 'love', when he was told not to.

Dahlia snuck another look at the clock, which was visible from her bed. Eight thirty in the morning. Not bad. Time sure flies fast.

She climbed down and glanced at the Monobloc chair where Gant was sitting on the previous night. Dahlia wondered if Gant had slept there instead of the poor excuse of a bed. And Gant was there, in a hunched and undignified position. Dahlia shook his shoulders, to see if he would wake up. He wouldn't.

Dahlia slapped him on the face, hard, knowing full well it was a crime. But Gant wouldn't wake up. Dahlia checked Gant's pulse. Nothing.

Gant was dead.


	4. A Plan

**Okay, again, sorry if any of the characters seem a bit OOC. It's because I've never written a fanfic with Morgan Fey in it. So yeah. And sorry if the plan to kill Maya-as revealed in 3-5-is a bit off. It's been a long time since I've played that case. Again, I don't own any of the characters. Just the plot. Thanks to all who reviewed so far.:)**

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><p>"Died of heart failure," mumbled the officer while they carted away Gant's body to the morgue. The officer turned to face Dahlia. "Miss Hawthorne, you may come and take a walk in the garden. But for thirty minutes only. I will be watching, so don't try anything." Dahlia nodded.<p>

For thirty minutes each day, prisoners are allowed to take a walk outside in the garden. The garden is nothing fancy; just a spot of land with dead grass on it. But there are benches for the prisoners to sit on. "Okay, thanks, mister officer." Dahlia said sweetly, smiling at him.

The officer nodded curtly and opened the cell door to lead her out. Dahlia looked behind her, and saw another officer leading Morgan Fey out to the garden.

They reached the poor excuse for a garden. The officer placed handcuffs over Dahlia's wrists and pointed to his eyes, then hers. _I'll be watching you, so don't you dare try anything unless you want to end up like Gant. In the morgue._

The officer let Dahlia go, and after the other one did the same to Morgan, he let her go too. Dahlia stared at Morgan. It's been so long since she's seen that face, that hair, those clothes. But she recognized her instantly. "Mother." Dahlia said softly, so the officers won't hear.

"Dahlia Hawthorne." Morgan hissed. She sat down on one of the benches, as did Dahlia. "You have no idea how much I want to kill you right now. You betrayed me, Dahlia Hawthorne."

"I know." Dahlia said casually. She twirled some of her red hair. "So why are you here, Mother?" she asked casually.

"I wanted to make my daughter the next Master." Morgan said. Dahlia raised her eyebrow. _You have another daughter?_ "Yes. Pearl. My greatest pride, my most valued treasure. At least Pearl has some worth, unlike you, Dahlia Hawthorne."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "So what happened to get you landed in here?"

"I conspired with Mimi Miney in a plan to kill a doctor, and frame Maya Fey for it. You see, Maya Fey is the next Master. And if she is in jail… next in line would be my daughter, Pearl." Morgan said bitterly. "Yet my plan utterly failed." Dahlia nodded.

"Oh? This Maya Fey you speak of… is she the sister of Mia Fey?" Dahlia asked curiously. She had a plan.

Morgan nodded. "That is correct. You know of my niece?"

"She's the one that got me landed in here. How could I forget?" Dahlia whispered. "I want my revenge. I swore I would get my revenge on Mia Fey." Morgan sighed, like what Dahlia said was out of this world. Morgan looked at Dahlia firmly.

"Mia Fey is dead." Morgan said bluntly. "So you cannot get your 'revenge' on her."

_Her._ Maybe Dahlia did not have to get revenge on Mia herself. Dahlia learned long ago that the greatest way to get revenge on someone is to hurt a person _close to her._ "Maybe I don't have to get revenge on Mia Fey." Dahlia muttered. "Maybe if I kill Maya, it would be revenge in itself."

"You wish to kill Maya Fey?" Morgan asked. "Perhaps killing you would not be so useful. If perhaps… we join forces, we can get rid of Maya Fey. I shall do it for Pearl to be the next master, and you shall do it for your 'revenge.' Is that a deal?"

Dahlia shrugged. "Sure. But the question is: how do we do it?"

"Wait. You are on death row?" Morgan asked. Dahlia nodded. "Perhaps… yes… if I give Pearl instructions… maybe that shall work… if Pearl will channel… Ah, yes. I have a possible solution. After you are executed, I will order Pearl to bring Maya to Hazakura temple with instructions to channel you."

"And then?" Dahlia asked impatiently. She did not like the idea of being executed.

"If you pretend you are Iris, then you will have access to the inner temple, where Maya will surely be training. Then, you kill Maya." Morgan said softly. "It is the best form of revenge I can think of, for you cannot get caught, Dahlia Hawthorne."

Dahlia nodded. "But are you absolutely sure that will work?"

"Please." Morgan said. "I am absolutely sure. My plan is foolproof. But if you do not come up with a better plan than this, then we'll leave it at that." Morgan challenged. Dahlia pondered this for a second. She'll surely be executed soon…

"Ah… I got nothing. Okay, we'll go ahead with your plan, Mother."

"Dahlia Hawthorne, I am ashamed to be the mother of a person with no spiritual powers whatsoever." Morgan said confidently. "So I would much prefer it if you call me Morgan. That is my name, after all." Morgan added. Dahlia shrugged.

"I'll do whatever I want." Dahlia replied.

"Thirty minutes is up! Miss Hawthorne, Miss Fey, please stop whatever you are doing and come forward." The officer said loudly. The two prisoners nodded at each other and stood up, their faces set in a determined expression.


	5. Execution

**Okay, this is the last chapter. Again, Morgan and Dahlia might be a little OOC, so I apologize. Thank you so much to those who reviewed.:D**

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><p>It started early January, just after New Year's. The officers started to act more confidently, like something important was about to happen. The officers started smiling, like this 'something' was something they should be looking forward to. Dahlia found this suspicious.<p>

"I don't understand." Dahlia said to her mother on one of their daily afternoon walks. "The officers are acting like something's going to happen. Something important."

Morgan pursed her lips and frowned. "I have noticed that as well."

"Why do you think they're doing that?" Dahlia demanded. Morgan sighed.

"Perhaps they have lost their minds." Morgan said. But Dahlia could tell that there was something else Morgan wasn't telling her. And she was right, for Morgan quickly offered another option: "But if you want me to tell you what gossip I've heard, do say so."

"Tell me the gossip." Dahlia said impatiently.

Morgan looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've heard one of the guards say that you are going to be executed." Morgan said bluntly. Dahlia's shoulders sank. She knew that she was going to be executed: she was on death row after all. But she still despised the idea of being hanged.

"What is wrong with you?" Morgan said sharply. "You being executed—this is the first step in our plan, right? How are we going to get our revenge on Maya Fey if you are not going to be executed? You are crucial to this plan." Dahlia glared at Morgan. She didn't understand. She wasn't on death row like she was.

"You don't understand me." Dahlia said coldly. "You're not on death row, so you wouldn't understand. How could you? You're not even in the danger of being hanged." She slouched, and folded her arms stubbornly. Dahlia continued glaring at Morgan, waiting for a response.

Morgan stared back at Dahlia with equal, if not more, power. "That would be true." Morgan admitted. "I am not on death row, but I'm just stating the truth. How are we to get our vengeance without your execution? Your death is the first step." Morgan repeated.

"I know that." Dahlia replied. "The idea of death just makes me uncomfortable." Did Dahlia really say that? She nearly covered her mouth with her hand. She almost never admitted that something made her uncomfortable, for others would just see that as a weakness. But what's the point? She was going to die anyway. It made no difference at all.

"Of course it does." Morgan said. Dahlia rolled her eyes. How very comforting.

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><p>"Miss Hawthorne, please come with me. Bring nothing with you." The officer instructed. Dahlia sighed and went to the front of the cell. The officer opened the door, and placed handcuffs over Dahlia as a precaution. Couldn't have a prisoner escaping at this crucial moment.<p>

The officer led Dahlia to a room with white walls. There were no windows. It was empty, save for a few plastic chairs for the officers. A rope was hanging from a beam in the ceiling in such a way that it looked like a pulley. _Remember the plan, Dahlia,_ she told herself. _Don't freak out._

"Do you know why you are here, Miss Hawthorne?" the officer asked Dahlia.

Dahlia shrugged. "I know you want to kill me. Just get it over with." Dahlia said bravely, trying to mask the fear in her voice.

"Why are you going to die, Miss Hawthorne?" the guard persisted. Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"Is that a rhetorical question, mister guard?" Dahlia purred. For a moment, she sounded exactly like the sweet, gentle young woman in court. But the officer was not fooled, of course. He knew it was just a façade, a mask well put on by Dahlia.

The officer carried one of the chairs and set it in the middle of the room, just below the rope. "Stand beside this chair, Miss Hawthorne."

Dahlia obeyed. _This is part of the plan. Stay calm. Don't panic. Don't try to escape. This is the only way you can get your revenge._ She stood beside the chair, waiting for the officer's next move. He took the end of the rope and tied it to Dahlia's neck, securing it with a tight knot. "Now stand on this chair."

Dahlia did as she was told. The officer nodded in assent. He grabbed the other end of the rope, the one hanging loosely beside Dahlia. _This is it, Dahlia,_ she told herself as the officer pulled. Hard. _Remember the plan, _Dahlia thought as the rope became tighter and tighter—

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><p><strong>And as we all know, the plan failed. Too bad, Dahlia. Please review, people. Reviews make me happy. And when I'm happy, I update my other stories more often.<strong>


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